


Sick Days

by acareeroutofrobbingbanks



Series: We're Turning Into Regular People [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, No Sex, We're Turning into Regular People, domestic AU, marriage AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3291038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acareeroutofrobbingbanks/pseuds/acareeroutofrobbingbanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick is very independent until he gets a cold. Once sick, needy isn't a strong enough word to describe him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Days

      It was a universal truth that Patrick Stump was independent to the core.

      The first time he attended family dinner, Pete was entertained by the story Patrick’s mother fondly recounted of how her son had broken his arm falling off of a bike, and with the bone still sticking out, he walked the bike a mile back home, and didn’t start crying until she began shrieking.

      From what Pete can tell, very little has changed. Patrick can and will take care of everything alone. He went to the doctor’s office alone, dug his car out of snowdrifts, and dealt with the constant stream of criticism alone.

      And it wasn’t as though Pete didn’t appreciate his husband’s independence, but sometimes he wished that Patrick would just _need_ him more.

      So, guilty as he felt about it, Pete was glad that there was at least one exception.

      “Hey sweetie,” Pete answered, the phone, smiling fondly and fiddling with his wedding ring, because Patrick’s picture now showed up with the name “Husband :)” under it.

      “Peeeeeeeeeete,” Patrick whined, stretching Pete’s name into ten separate syllables in a low whine.

      “Patrick? What’s wrong?” Pete asked, instantly on alert.

      “I’m si-ick,” Patrick whined, managing to sound about five with his voice pitched up and full of complaint. Pete could hear the stuffiness in his voice too though, and the nasal quality that showed Patrick was stopped up.

      “Aw, baby,” Pete smiled into the phone, trying to not sound like he was laughing. He was relieved it was nothing more serious, but he knew Patrick would be peeved if he heard Pete laughing at him. “I’m at the store already; is there something you want me to get?”

      “Soup,” he demanded, still sniffling, “and orange juice. And crackers. And maybe some dinger ale.”

      Pete wasn’t gonna tell him that the way his words came out garbled was adorable.

      “Okay, baby,” Pete spoke soothingly, “I’ll grab what you want, and I’ll be home soon, okay?”

      “Noooooo!” Patrick whined, and Pete could picture him wriggling on the bed, trying feebly to sit up. “Don’ hang up!”

      “Okay, okay, I’m still here baby, I’m not hanging up,” Pete soothed, “Deep breaths,”

      “I can’t fuckin breathe!” Patrick cried, sounding frustrated to the point of tears. Pete shoved his fist in his mouth to hold back laughter. Patrick was in pain, and he shouldn’t laugh, but the way he could turn a common cold into such an event was always going to be hilarious, and kind of adorable.

      Pete ended up having to stay on the phone until he got through the front door, at which point Patrick, swaying on his feet, launched himself at Pete and wrapped his arms tight around Pete’s neck, clinging onto him and slumping down against his chest. His eyes and nose were red and puffy, and he was still wearing the t-shirt and pajama pants he had worn to bed.

      “Peeeeeete!” he whined, snuffling into Pete’s shoulder. Pete couldn’t resist letting out a small chuckle this time.

      “Baby, you gotta let go, I have to bring in the groceries,” he chided lightly.

      “Noooooooooooo,” Patrick moaned. and he buried his face in Pete’s chest. “No, fuck the groceries, you’re warm and it’s coooold!”

      “Come on, sweetie,” Pete sighed, still smiling. “Let’s get you into bed.” Patrick shook his head, but Pete picked him up bridal style, carrying his husband back into the bedroom and laying him down in the bed. He tucked the corners of at least three separate blankets in around Patrick’s shoulders, kissed his forehead, and promised to be right back.

      He put the groceries away as quickly as he could, only making sure that everything they needed to freeze or refrigerate was put away, and going back into the bedroom. Pete lifted up the edge of the blankets, wriggling in next to his husband with no care whatsoever of getting himself sick.

      “Pete,” Patrick’s voice only sounded slightly less pathetic, but he smiled a tiny smile, curling up into Pete’s side and nuzzling his neck. He grabbed Pete’s arm and tugged it back, wrapping it around his own waist, and pressing the two of them closer.

      “Pete, I’m dying,” Patrick moaned, and Pete tried not to laugh, but couldn’t hold back a small giggle.

      “Why are you laughing when I’m dying?” Patrick moaned, hitting Pete in the chest with his fists as hard as he could, which meant that Pete couldn’t really feel it.

      “I’m not laughing at you, baby,” Pete lied, and he disentangled one of his arms, smoothing Patrick’s hair back from his forehead, and making calming little shushing noises. “It’s just that you’re really, really cute, that’s all.”

      “No!” Patrick whined, but Pete knew he didn’t really mind, “I’m gross!”

      “No, you’re adorable,” Pete promised, kissing Patrick’s nose. “Are you thirsty?”

      “A little,” Patrick admitted. Pete made to stand up, but Patrick let out a whimpering noise, and grabbed Pete by the waist, holding him back with all his might. It was a really weak grip, but Pete knew he was trying really hard to hold him down.

      “What is is, sweetie?” he asked.

      “Don’t go!” Patrick pleaded, his lower lip jutting out, and tears welling up in his eyes.

      “Shh, shh, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” Pete promised, turning back to Patrick and lying down again, petting his husband’s hair and making little shushing noises. “I’m right here, okay? But I need to get you some orange juice, alright? You’ve gotta stay hydrated!”

      “Don’t go!” Patrick repeated, burying his face in Pete’s chest. And Pete sighed, and hugged Patrick close to him.

      The orange juice could wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading! I had a cold, and my girlfriend lives a few hours away, so I'm living vicariously through Patrick, I guess. :p Anyways, she prompted me to start a series of marriage drabbles, so I guess that'll be a thing. As usual, if you liked the story and wanna make my day, go check out The High Way to Hell, because that work is my baby. I promise there will be Peterick! it's just a really slow build...


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